


Close Your Eyes and Count

by SocksAndSandals



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Classism, Kidnapping, M/M, Mistreatment of Trolls, So it's like partial humanstuck, Some of the trolls are human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksAndSandals/pseuds/SocksAndSandals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Science teaches of a sentient species that diverged from the genetic path that humans took. History teaches that all over the planet, Trolls were always treated as lesser beings. Something closer to animals. Only for the last century have they legally had equal rights. Humanity is still learning to accept them and their strange ways, and as such trolls are often abused and mistreated. They have harder times finding jobs, finding places to live, getting into colleges, and surviving life.<br/>Amidst this depressing way of living, is a beacon of light. The Society for Equal Treatment of Trolls (SETT) is a small organization dedicated to the betterment of the lives of trolls everywhere. It's not well known by the humans, but any troll that has seen hardship knows of SETT. Most pray that they will never need the help of the organization.<br/>Eridan Ampora is a 17 year old sea troll who never expected much good to ever come from his gray-skied life. And it only seems to get worse when he is kidnapped. Little does he know that his case will bring SETT the awareness it needs to really change things for the better for trolls, including Eridan.<br/>DISCONTINUED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anywhere New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Eridan. Meet the conflict. And oh hey look, there's Dualscar!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh, it's not my first fanfiction, but it is my first on this site, and my first homestuck fic. So patience would be appreciated. I'll add more tags and characters later as they become relevant.  
> TW: Trollnapping.

_"Captain and Crew,_  
_Captain and Crew,_  
_Take me, oh take me,_  
_To anywhere new."_  
\- “Needles and Pins,” Shel Silverstein

 ---

Once upon a time he was a pauper and fancied himself a prince and waited for the day when he would meet his princess. But that was a long time ago. Now he was just another gray ghost that floated listlessly through the motions of life. Sometimes Eridan wondered what had changed, but then the answer was always there, staring back at him from the bathroom mirror.

Gray skin. Fish fins. Violet blood. Lightning horns. His black irises were starting to fill in, a smooth tint of violet with some brighter patches here and there. He stood at a height of six feet and two inches exactly, not counting his horns. It was obvious what had changed. He’d grown up and stopped being so blind.

He sighed, snatched a couple paper towels to dry his hands with, and threw them away as he left the tiny bathroom connected to the break room. He went straight to his tiny locker. One of his human co-workers - Mitchel or Mathew or something else that started with 'M'. Martin? – was sitting at the card table messing around on his phone. The two of them ignored each other. Which was normal.

Eridan tugged open his locker and grabbed his things. His body slid him through the regular motions of putting on his dark gray coat, tying the blue and violet scarf, replacing his work shoes with his boots, and slipping his bag onto his shoulder. All the while his mind was miles away, as usual, working through both paying the bills and whether or not he should take on a third job or give up all together. Another part of him was wondering what would happen if he just got up off his bed one of these days and left. Drove away into the setting sun and kept going until he drove into the ocean and went back to living where sea trolls were supposed to.

Anywhere was better than here, and he hadn’t seen the ocean since the day he had left it.

“Hey, Eridan.” Mark – oh, right. It was Mark. He knew it started with an M. – said, the hint of a teasing tone on his voice. Eridan didn’t really care at all what his co-worker was going to say, so he barely spared a glance over his shoulder at the older human male sitting at the stupid too-small table. Mark grinned at him like he knew something Eridan didn’t. “You know, it feels like every day now I see something in the papers about another attack on another helpless troll. Better be careful on your walk home today. Wouldn’t want you to get offed–”

Eridan slammed the employee back door behind him before Max could finish his last word, only to find that he’d stepped out into torrential rain that was threatening to turn into a full blown thunderstorm. In the time it took for Eridan to realize it was raining, his jacket soaked through to his shirt and his wet hair flopped down over his eyes. He huffed, let the rain cool his temper down, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started on the long walk home.

A forth of the way there and the cold made it past his temper and started spreading through his blood and bones. Halfway, and his glasses were so diluted with raindrops that he had to stop and duck into a gas station. He had to dig all the way down to the tank top he had on under his shirt to find a dry piece of clothing to clean his glasses with. He stayed in the station for a few minutes more, hands in his pockets, hunched and exhausted, just watching the rain make everything outside look gray.

The station was dull, nearly empty. A few customers here and there, and all human; an irritated father and his annoying, impatient young daughter, a mopey looking teen in a hoodie – seriously? A hoodie? Gross – over by the fridges with all the drinks, and a woman who looked just as tired and dead inside as Eridan felt. After a few minutes two female trolls, both younger than he was, came in giggling and laughing. One of them gave Eridan a once-over and then made a face like she was impressed. He faked a smile for her. She blushed, looking a little guilty at being caught staring, and was pulled away by her friend, both giggling.

He left when the human teen boy started picking on the troll girls, because he knew if he stayed around and watched that, he’d end up beating the kid within an inch of his life. And he didn’t need assault charges on top of everything else in his miraculously shitty life.

\---

He was almost home when the screech of tires broke through the rain. He saw the windowless van in his peripheral vision and didn’t have time to be scared before the side door flew open with a rolling rusty scream and two people from inside leaped out. He didn’t have time to scream before the arms hooked around his from behind and he was dragged off his feet and into the van. And he finally got the scream out as the door was closing, but no doubt the rain and the thunder that crashed when the door slammed closed, drowned out his voice.

He tried to fight off all the hands that were suddenly on him. He clawed and hissed and snarled and shouted profanities. When one of the larger hands slapped down on his mouth he reared open his jaws and sank his shark teeth as deep into his attacker’s flesh as possible. It tasted like sweat, and dirt. Bitter and gross. He let go when he heard a screeching yelp of pain – male. Then the bleeding hand punched him so hard in the side of his head spots of color momentarily flashed in his vision.

“Fucker! Don’t hit him! The Doc will _kill_ you if you give him any bruises!” a woman’s voice hissed. Someone tied a thick blindfold around his head. He reared his head back, trying to stab his horns into whoever was behind him. All he hit was metal that jarred his horns so bad he thought he heard them crack. In his stunned moment afterwards another thick piece of fabric was wrapped around and around his mouth, tied behind his head like the other one. Then another one wrapped under his jaw, the ends of it tied to his horns. The initial instinct to fight was quickly turning into terror.

His claws scraped against metal and then his arms were tugged behind his back and his torso was forced forwards. He kept kicking, wriggling, fighting, clawing, even as his wrists were bound. His snarl turned into wide-eyed panicking fear when his legs were tied together too. And when he couldn’t fight anymore he fell still and silent, straining his remaining senses to try and figure out what was going on.

The car wasn’t speeding, it was just driving along normally. It smelled like sweat and faintly of lemons, which translated in Eridan’s mind to fear and leather cleaner. He could hear hushed voices from what he guessed was the front seat, too quiet for him to make out the words. One of them was female and the other was male, he could tell that much. There were two more voices closer to him, and those he could hear. Although what they were saying was making him feel sick.

“I will admit, he’s a good catch. You have a good eye Megido.” Gruff, male, probably the one that punched him. The ridiculous part, that made Eridan think he’d slipped into some kind of Crime TV show, was the Chicago accent.

“Well I figured English would appreciate the addition of a sea troll to his growing number of pets. And he was walking along in the rain all alone.” The female voice. Too sugary sweet but somehow poisonous around the edges. Mocking. A soft hand caresses the side of his head where he was punched. He flinched away from it, biting down on the cloth in his mouth as he growled behind it, a rough clicking sound that was supposed to sound dangerous. The woman laughed. “Poor precious baby soaked to the bones. It must have been so cold and miserable out there, huh? Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make you feel all nice and… _warm_.”

Vile. This woman was vile. Disgusting. A snake through and through, no doubt. He felt humiliated anger boil through him as the van filled with the laughter of his attackers. The hands grabbed him again, by his legs, and he was dragged across the metal floor of the van, farther back into it. He was dumped against the back doors and left there.

Eventually, as he was ignored, the anger melted back into terror, and then the panic died away and he was left with fear that spread a chill through him. He was cold. And wet. And bound, gagged, blindfolded, and even though the van couldn’t have been more than a couple blocks away from his apartment building, he’d never felt farther away from home.

\---

Dorian paced the length of the living room again. He’d lost count of how many times now. Eridan was supposed to be home from work an hour ago. Twenty minutes in and he hadn’t assumed anything was wrong. It was raining pretty hard. Chances were he’d stopped somewhere to wait out the rain. So Dorian had sat his ass down and relaxed, turned the TV on, grabbed himself a beer.

Then twenty minutes had stretched into thirty. The rain stopped. Thirty ticked into forty. Forty ticked into fifty. Dorian started pacing. Fifty five. He flipped the TV off. An hour. Still pacing. Maybe it was time to worry. Maybe not. He screwed up his mind and went into the kitchen, pulling out his cell phone. The number of Eridan’s work was on the fridge. Maybe they would know where Eridan was. Maybe the boy had never left work. Maybe he’d been surprised with another shift and hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Dorian. Maybe the stupid boy forgot to charge his phone again and it had died. Maybe he was worried about nothing.

It rang three times before someone answered.

_“Garathon Theater, how can I help you?”_

“Hello, this is Dorian Ampora. My son works at your establishment and was supposed to be home from work an hour ago. I was… curious as to whether or not he was still there.” He asked, leaning back against the counter. It’d be fine. They’d tell him that yes, Eridan was still there, was there anything he still needed, blah blah blah. Eridan would be home eventually, right? Right.

 _“Uhh… Ampora… Oh! You’re asking about Eridan, aren’t you?”_ The voice said. It was male. And didn’t sound too worried. So maybe Eridan was still there after all. _“No, Eridan left work a while ago. Like, little over an hour and a half? Haven’t seen him since then. Dunno where he could be. Sorry, man. Have a nice night.”_

The call was ended from the other side. He stuck the phone back into his pocket. He stayed against the counter. Maybe he’d gone to a friend’s house? _E_ _ridan doesn’t have any friends._  Maybe he’d gotten distracted by something. _Eridan hates being out in the rain._  Maybe he’d gone somewhere to do something fun for once. _Eridan wouldn’t spend his money like that, he’d call it a waste._ Maybe… Maybe…

_Missing._

He shook his head and went back to the living room, over to the sliding glass doors that led out to the tiny deck. He could only take in half the view it offered, since the other half was obstructed by his blinded eye, but the clearing storm shedding the first rays of sunset lights over the cityscape was beautiful. Maybe Eridan had stopped somewhere to take pictures with his phone. He liked taking pictures of things.

_Gone. Like the other one._

No. Eridan wouldn’t just leave. Not when he’d been working so hard to take care of Dorian. Eridan wasn’t like Cronus. Eridan was clingy, even though the boy hated to act that way. Eridan was dedicated. Once he set his mind to things he didn’t change it. Eridan wouldn’t run away.

_Newspaper._

No. Not Eridan. Eridan was a fighter and too suspicious of people to be coerced.

_The sixth one. All of them pretty. Eridan is always trying to look nice, especially for work._

No. Eridan would come home. Dorian just had to wait. Everything was fine. It had to be.

_Kidnapped._

Dorian reached for his phone again.

_“You’ve dialed nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the Ancestors have normal names cause this isn't Alternian/Beforan society. If you didn't connect the dots, Dorian is Dualscar. I'll have these altered names included in the notes before the chapter of an ancestor's first appearance.


	2. If No One’s Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan gets acquainted with his new living space. The Captor-Vantas family is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signless = Silas  
> Psiioniic = Simon

_“It's okay to be angry and never let go_  
_It only gets harder the more that you know_  
_When you get lonely if no one's around_  
_You know that I'll catch you when you're falling down.”_  
\- "Empty Apartment", Yellowcard

\---

_“Eridan are you shore you’re ok-ray? You know you can shell me anything, right?”_

_“Yeah, I know. I’m fin, Fef. I prom-fish.”_

_“Well alright. I b-eel-ieve you. You must be feeling at least ok-ray if you’re making fish puns with me. Can I come over for ice cream again today?”_

_“Sure.”_

\---

The giggles echoed until Eridan opened his eyes. To darkness. He tried to lift his arms to see what was obstructing his vision, only to discover they were secured behind his back. The tensing jolt of panic rushed up his spine, and then reality came back to him and he remembered what had happened. He’d been kidnapped. He was still tied up tight in the back of the van, laying on his side, partially curled up. The position and the limited access to movement had made most of his muscles stiff and achy. He doesn’t remember how long he had lied there in the back of the van, quietly crying purple tears of fear and apprehension.

Eventually he must have fallen asleep. Which means he didn’t know how long he’d been in the van. Since his muscles were this stiff, he could assume that it had been a good long while. And now he could tell what had woken him up. The van was still. Stopped. They’d reached their destination, wherever that was. From what he could hear, the van was empty and there were muffled voices coming from beyond the walls of the van. He couldn’t hear the words, but he recognized the sugar sweet of the snake woman’s voice, and the gruff accent of the man who’d punched him. There were a couple unfamiliar voices too. A deeper, colder female, a warm-toned calm from another male, and the deep, rough, quietly dangerous voice of a third male.

He wriggled onto his back and arched his spine in order to stretch it out. He heard something crack wonderfully and sighed through his nose. His legs were next; straightening, bending, and stretching in order to get the blood flowing through them again. There was nothing he could do for his arms, unfortunately, but his could roll his head and shoulders to alieve the ache in his neck at least a little bit. There was nothing else he could do except cry some more, or pray, or sleep. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that praying would help him, and he’d already cried his eyes dry, and he’d just woken up from sleep. Plus, he’d rather not dream anymore. Ever.

So instead he just waited, silent, listening to the voices outside the van. He forced himself not to tense when two of them, the puncher and the calm male, got louder, indicating that the owners of the voices were coming closer to the van.

“So who do you think English will let break him? He’s quite the fighter. Nearly chomped my fingers off when we nabbed him.” Puncher said, his annoying accent grinding on Eridan’s nerves. ‘Break him’? He didn’t really want to know how exactly they planned to make him give up on fighting them. He’d never stop fighting them. Never. Not until he was free and home and safe.

“Personally I don’t really care who gets to break him, Mr. Noir. All I do is drive the van, make sure they’re healthy enough to work, and keep you and everyone else in this company in line. Ms. Peixes would only hand the case to me if the sea troll proves to be harder to crack than the others.” The calm male said. Eridan didn’t have much time to ponder ‘the others’ and ‘Ms. Peixes’, because Puncher – the calm one had called him Noir – laughed, and the van door was opened.

He could feel the touch of sunlight on his face, and the cool chill of growing evening air. He’d left his work at fourish, had walked for about half an hour before stopping at the gas station, and had only been walking another twenty minutes before he’d been snatched from the sidewalk. If it was the evening hours already, but still sunny out, it must have been somewhere near six or even seven o’clock. One to two hours. He was one to two hours of driving away from his home.

A pair of arms curled around his knees and his shoulders, lifting him from the metal floor of the van. He growled and wriggled against their hold. Whoever was lifting him was strong. Eridan was tall and dense. Sea trolls had to be dense if they were to live under the pressures of the ocean. But strong or not, he wasn't going to just give in.

“Stop wiggling, my dear, or I fear I may drop you onto the concrete.” The calm male said, closer than when he’d last been, of course, because it was him that must be holding Eridan. Concrete didn’t sound very nice, and even if he was dropped there was nowhere he could go when his legs were tied and he was blindfolded. So he gave in and stilled, but by no means did he relax or stop growling. “There see? You’re learning how to behave already. I don’t think you’ll be much of a problem at all.”

He was carried silently a few feet, listening to everything he could and taking note of everything he could feel. A breeze, but no trees. The man’s arms were clothed, and his hands gloved. The other voices had all fallen silent and he heard multiple sets of footsteps on concrete. The footsteps all departed, and he could tell they were going into some kind of building.

From a ways, he could also hear the familiar sounds of a downtown area. Traffic, people, laughter, yelling, honking, life. Freedom. Close enough he could hear it, smell the gasoline and the cigarettes and the sewage and the trash. And then the air changed and he could tell he was inside the building. The door closed with a slam – heavy and metal – and cut off the sounds of the outside. Inside he could feel rather than hear the steady thumping of a bass line in some song. Could hear more people, the noise of a crowd. Indistinguishable voices mixing and swirling together into the faint sounds of music.

A nightclub? Why would his kidnappers bring him to a nightclub? He didn’t really want to know, when he thought about everything his attackers had said already. He was carried farther, footsteps clicking a little that told him tile, or metal, or linoleum. Not wood. It wasn’t hollow enough for wood. He was carried up a set of stairs, and the music and people faded away even more. Down a straight line – now they were crossing a wood floor – and then they stopped.

The man shifted Eridan in his arms, and then set him down on his feet, keeping a hand on the sea troll’s shoulder in order to keep him steady and standing. His kidnapper stooped and started patting his hands down Eridan’s jacket and pants pockets. He pulled out anything he found, and put some things back. His pocket knife was taken, along with his cell phone. The contents of his bag were searched too. There wasn’t much in it. His empty lunch containers, his digital camera and its cord, his notebook, a couple pencils and pens, his badge for work, and his wallet. He knew the guy would take his camera, of course, and he growled when the guy did. That camera had costed his dad a lot. It had been a Christmas gift. He didn’t want it destroyed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t break it. I’ll put it somewhere safe for you, you have my word.” The man said, tone a tad too soothing, too believable. Then the door was opened, and the man scooped him up again. He was brought into the room and set down on the floor. Then there were hands on his wrists, untying what bound them back behind him. When his hands were freed he tried to turn around to attack his kidnapper blindly, but was shoved forwards before he could. He lost his balance and fell to his knees with a thump.

“My name is Doctor Scratch. I don’t think you’ll forget that. You look like a smart young troll to me. You’ll stay here for the evening. The rest of us have work to do and there’s simply no time to inform you of your new job. Have a nice night.” He heard the door close, lock, footsteps retreat down the hall, and then it was silent.

Methodically, slowly, he worked the aches out of his arms and reached up to his head to start untying the bands of fabric that bound him. When the blindfold was gone he started on his gag, then the one wrapped under his chin, then his legs. When he was freed of the bindings he set the strips of fabric aside and looked around.

It was a simple room. Unoccupied at the moment. Four sets of bunk-beds, two against each wall. Eight trunks, two at the foot of each bunk-bed. A closet, with the sliding folding doors, stood open, placed in the wall adjacent to the door, to the right. Next to the closet was the open door to a bathroom. One desk against the farthest wall, to the left, sitting under a window that had heavy curtains hanging down in front of it, blocking out the sunlight. The overhead lights were on, along with a lamp on the desk. The beds were all made, but he could tell that this room served as the place of living for other people. Little personal objects were scattered about here and there, but not messily.

A few things like notebooks and novels sat on the desk. One of the bottom bunks had an olive green stuffed cat next to the pillow. One of the trunks was kept partially open by the head of a stuffed sheep that stuck out. A carefully arranged set of face paints and make up on the counter in the bathroom. A white sweater of some kind hung from one of the top bunks. A pretty black dress with jade green accents hung in the closet, pushed apart from all the other items as if it was precious. It probably was. The other items were separated into five uneven clumps.

Five other people.

And he made six. The sixth one. The others. He wasn’t the only one who had been kidnapped then. Part of him found comfort in that. The rest of him churned with nausea. Six people. Six trolls, if the colors in the closet were anything to go by. Trolls were usually drawn to things that were the same color as their blood. The colors in the closet reflected five different troll blood colors. Rust red, indigo, jade green, olive green, cerulean blue. And now violet as well.

He stumbled to his feet, and barely made it to the little bathroom in time.

\---

Karkat sighed and refolded the morning newspaper. Six. Six now, and still no leads anywhere. The police hadn’t even connected them all together yet. Perhaps they were just too busy with cases involving humans to care about one involving trolls. His stomach flip-flopped and he pushed his breakfast away, slumping down in his chair with a huff and a scowl. His appetite was gone, thank you very much stupid newspaper.

His dad, still making pancakes in the kitchen for the other few occupants of the house that hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, gave a small sigh. His older brother, sitting across the breakfast table from him, made a sound of disapproval.

“Karkat, Dad got up early this morning to make your favorite kind of pancakes and you won’t even take one bite? Don’t be so rude and eat your breakfast.” Kankri chided. Karkat growled at him.

“Don’t growl at the table.” His dad said from the kitchen, reminding Karkat like he did every single day of the rules. “Use your words. Come on, you’re a Vantas. I know you’ve got words somewhere in you.”

“Shut up, Dad. I’m just not hungry anymore.” He huffed again and put the newspaper down on the table where his plate had previously been. His pancakes were still steaming, and smelled delicious, but the little article in the newspaper, shoved into the back pages, stared up at him tauntingly.

“See, I told you had words.” His dad said, chuckling warmly as he crossed the floor to add three more pancakes to the growing pile on the serving plate on the table. He leaned over his son from behind and brushed Karkat’s bangs out of his eyes. “So? What is it this time? Not two minutes ago you were complaining about how the pancakes weren’t done yet. What threw you off your meal?”

“The newspaper.” Karkat explained, gesturing lazily to the offending paper on the table. His dad straightened and picked up the paper. “The little article on the bottom of the page, in today’s clump of missing people. They got another one, Dad. They took another one. Right off the street, it sounds like. Look, they’ve got a shitty picture of him and everything.”

His dad looked, read through the little article under the picture, and sighed sadly. Karkat twisted around to kneel on his chair, watching his dad expectantly. His dad had promised that if any more trolls were taken from their area of living, he’d take it to his work.

“Oh goodness. He lived not three blocks from us, in those old apartment buildings – you know the ones. Kankri works at the bookstore across the street from them. That’s so close… it could have been either one of you instead.” Silas shivered, pressing a hand to his mouth. He looked up at Karkat, and noticed the kid’s frowning, expectant face. His eyes shift to Kankri, who is watching them curiously. “A seventeen year old sea troll, a violetblood. Never came home from work yesterday. They say he’s missing, probably a runaway, but his dad is insisting that he was kidnapped.”

“You promised that if another one was –”

“Yes, yes, I know, Karkat. If another one was kidnapped from our city I’d take it to work and see if we could do anything. But a case like this needs police involvement, Karkat. Our little group only has so much support, and the issue of troll rights doesn’t have all that much awareness outside of those who are victims of it. I can promise my best, but I can’t promise that we’ll solve the case.” Silas explained, going back to the kitchen. He put the newspaper on the counter and went back to flipping pancakes. The process was interrupted by the crackling red and blue sparks of psionics as they lifted and effortlessly flipped the last pancake on the griddle. The Vantas trio looked up to see the familiar faces of their house-mates.

“Why the long fatheth?” Sollux asked lispingly, a confused frown taking over where there had previously been a grin. The sparks around his horns died away. Karkat turned back around in his chair, slumping again. Kankri sighed, but kept eating. Karkat didn’t understand how his brother could still have an appetite.

“There was another kidnapping and it’s upset Karkat again. Probably cause this time the kid is his age, and was taken from our corner of the city.” Silas explained. Sollux went to sit at the table next to Karkat, reaching over to awkwardly pat the other boy’s hand. Karkat’s expression softened a little when Sollux attempted a toothy smile.

The elder psionic troll crossed the room and took the newspaper from the counter, glancing over the article. Simon Captor’s eyebrows raised a little, and then he put the paper down and went to take his place on the other side of Karkat. Silas finished with the last few pancakes, added them to stack, and then sat down himself between Kankri and Simon. Simon served people psionically. Karkat stubbornly stared at his steaming plate.

“Alright, fine, I give in.” Simon said, throwing up his hands dramatically. He reached over and ruffled Karkat’s hair, tossing his bangs back into his eyes. “Do you want me to dig into this, Karks? See what I can find out about this boy?”

“And I’ll have to stop by that boy’s apartment if we’re going to take on this case. Do you want to come with?” Silas added when Simon’s offer made Karkat visibly perk up. Karkat nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, yes, please.” He spluttered, finally feeling okay enough to pull his plate back to him. The two adults turned to grin at each other knowingly, and then breakfast continued as if nothing had ever happened. That is, until the house’s two human occupants stumbled sleepy-eyed down the stairs and came into the kitchen. Mituna and Feferi, the two human kids that Simon had adopted a few years back. Mituna plopped down at the table and dug into his breakfast. Feferi went to the sink to get a drink of water, and spotted the open newspaper. Her eyes locked and glued to the picture of the troll boy.

As she picked up the paper to read the article, her fingers loosened. She drew in a sharp breath, and then the glass of water fell from her hand and crashed to the floor. The room descended into silent concern except for Mituna, who kept eating like nothing was wrong for a moment or two before his brain caught up to things and he too froze, watching Feferi. She turned the paper around in her hands and pointed to the picture of the kidnapped sea troll, her face pale.

“I know him. I mean I did. When I was little. That… Oh, glub… that’s _Eridan_.”


	3. All That's Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ampora 1 meets Vantas 1 and 3, and A little blurb from Eridan at the end.

_"Take my photo off the wall_  
_If it just won't sing for you_  
_'Cause all that's left has gone away_  
_And there's nothing there for you to do."_  
\- “Look What You’ve Done”, Jet

 ---

Dorian didn’t sleep very well. After he had called 911 the police had come to his apartment asking for details about Eridan. He’d told them his reasoning, said Eridan wasn’t the type to just run away or not come home. But of course, as soon as Dorian had mentioned that Eridan suffered from depression, the cops had written him off as yet another teenage runaway. They’d given their ‘condolences’ promised they’d add Eridan into the newspaper among all the other missing faces, and then left. And Dorian had never been angrier in his life.

So he spent hours trying to find someone who _would_ help, who’d believe Dorian when he said Eridan was kidnapped. He used the internet to find all the resources he could. He’d called so many, many people. But all of those human run agencies had all said the same thing. ‘ _He probably ran away. We can send out an Amber Alert, or add him to ‘missing peoples’, but there’s not much more we can do. Sorry.’_

After he ran out of resources, his mind started doubting how sure he was that Eridan was kidnapped. It started giving him reasons why Eridan _would_ run away. Most of them pointed to how horrible of a father he was. As the clock was stretching towards midnight, he’d pulled out heavier stuff than just beer and drank himself into a stupor. And then hated himself for it because he knew exactly what Eridan would say about it. _‘You’re drunk again, Dad. Go to bed’_ or, _‘You could at least pretend to be tryin’ to kick your addiction’_ or worst of all, _‘I’m sorry. I’ve almost got enough saved to get you help, I promise. Just hold out a little longer. I’ve just gotta work a little harder, is all.’_

He passed out on the couch somewhere around two in the morning and woke up to one of his worse hangovers. He waited on the couch for nearly half an hour for Eridan to bring him painkillers and water like the boy always did when Dorian did this to himself, before he realized Eridan wasn’t _there_ to do that.

It was the first time since the accident that he actually wanted to cry.

But he hadn’t. Instead he’d dragged himself off the couch and went about trying to fix himself this time around. Got his own fucking painkillers, drank near a gallon of water, and then went to run himself a salt bath so he could flush water through his gills.

His hair was still damp when he heard the first knock on the door. He wasn’t really expecting anyone, so his mind ignored it until the knock came again. Then he got off his ass and went to answer the door. He pulled it open to find a short, middle-aged, nubby horned troll standing there with a sympathetic smile on his face. There was an even shorter troll standing behind and to the right of the first one, younger, more awkward looking. Probably around Eridan’s age.

“Who are you an’ what do you want?” He asked, none too politely. If these were warmblood neighbors that had come to give him more ‘condolences’ because Eridan’s face was in the damned newspaper, he was going to shut the door in their faces and not answer it again until Eridan came home.

One look at the older one’s eyes confirmed that they were warmbloods, at least. The warmest that they came; that bright unnatural red that was both uncommon in trolls and looked down upon because it was the same color as their oppressors.

“Hello. My name is Silas Vantas and I’m the founder and president of the Society for Equal Treatment of Trolls. I’d like to talk to you about your son.” The older troll said, sticking out his hand. He seemed completely unfazed by Dorian’s rudeness. Unfortunately the sea troll wasn’t all too sure of what he had heard.

“Sorry, you lost me at Society. Just tell me why the hell you’re standin’ on my doorstep. Simple words, if you can.” Dorian said, his left hand coming up to rub at his temples. His hangover headache had already left him, thankfully, but all this stranger’s talking was threatening to give him another one.

“I’m the boss of an organization for trolls that wants to help you find your son.” The elder troll simplified. Dorian’s eyes widened and he stared for a blank moment before coming back to his senses and hurrying to open the door wider. “Can we come in?”

“You should a’ just said that first. A’ course you can come in.” He left the door open and hurried back to the living room to clean up the mess of bottles he’d left there the night before. He threw them away in the kitchen just as he heard the door close. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I wasn’t exactly expectin’ company.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t exactly expecting to find a perfectly clean house. I have no doubt you’re probably suffering something awful right now. If it was one of my sons that was kidnapped I’d be a disaster.” Vantas said, coming into the living room just as Dorian was returning to it with even wider eyes.

“Wait, you mean you believe what I said? That he was kidnapped?” Dorian asked, gesturing the pair over to the couch with his own hand. They sat down, side by side. The older one had perfect posture and an air of polite friendliness around him. The younger one slouched and refused to make eye contact with Dorian. He sat down in the old arm chair next to the couch.

“The newspaper said that you insisted your son had been kidnapped. I see no reason to not believe you. You’re the boy’s father. You should know your son better than anyone, right?” the troll – Vantas. He’d said his name was Vantas. Silas Vantas. – interlocked his fingers and set his hands on his lap. Dorian just stared dumbfounded.

“An’ you mean it when you say you’ll get him back? That you’ll find him?” Dorian asked.

“Like I said, I’m the president of the Society for Equal Treatment of Trolls. SETT, for short. We exist to help trolls that have been victimized by their low standing in this world. The police brushed the case off and ignored you. You deserve better than that. Your _son_ deserves better than that.” Silas said, smile falling into something more serious. Dorian nodded along enthusiastically, agreeing completely. “SETT would – _I_ would like to give you the time of day that you and your son deserve. We’ve agreed to take on your case, but I won’t give you the empty promise that we’ll get him back. All I can do is promise that we’ll try our hardest.”

“That’s more than enough, Mr. Vantas. It’s so much more than what the police were willin’ to offer.” Dorian said, shaking his head a little. His ear fins were starting to not droop so much for the first time since calling the police. “Thank you.”

“Call me Silas, and no need to thank _me_. It was Karkat here that convinced me to take on your son’s case.” Silas said, back to smiling. He gestured to the younger Vantas as he introduced his son. Dorian found the boy’s eyes and nodded assuredly.

“Thank you.” Dorian said again. Karkat looked away, scowl falling completely.

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled. Dorian smiled shortly, and then returned his attention to the older Vantas, to Silas, who was speaking again.

“If you’re willing, I would like to ask you some questions about Eridan, and about you. A few of them are rather intrusive, so I must assure you that if it’s too uncomfortable you can choose not to answer. Just know that piece of information we can gather will be beneficial to us finding your son.” Silas said, smile shrinking a little. Dorian nodded again.

“I’ll tell you anythin' you need to know.” Dorian agreed.

“Good, thank you Mr. Ampora.” Silas agreed, smiling brightly.

“It’s just Dorian. No one’s called me Mr. anythin’ in too long to go back to it now.”

Karkat had got up off the couch and started wandering around the rest of the room. There wasn’t a whole lot of new things. All the furniture they’d owned was from before they’d lived in the apartment. Besides the couch, the armchair, and the TV, there were a couple bookshelves, a wooden coffee table, a half-moon table next to the entryway into the kitchen, and a messy desk covered in all of Eridan’s photography things. And there were photos everywhere, of course. Most of them had been taken by Eridan himself, so the subjects, settings, and moods varied quite a bit. Dorian’s favorite sat right in front of him on the coffee table.

“Alright then, Dorian, first off, I would just like confirm everything that the newspaper said.” Silas said, voice and face slipping into something less conversational and more determined. He’d seen the expression on Eridan before. Serious, and to the point. “It stated that Eridan is seventeen, works at the Garathon Theater, suffers from depression, and never returned home from work at said theater yesterday evening. Is all that correct?”

“Yeah. He was s’posed to come home from the theater at five. It takes him somewhere ‘round an hour ‘cause he has to walk. We don’t own a car. He doesn’t know how to drive an’ it’s a bit too difficult for me now that I only got one hand.” Dorian explained, speaking to the older Vantas, but watching the younger one.

“How did you lose your hand?” Silas asked. Karkat was over by the bookshelves now. Which held all of the pre-accident photos that he and Eridan could bear to keep around. Which meant they were all of their old house, and showed more than just Dorian and/or Eridan himself.

“Car accident.” Dorian explained, voice quieting as he avoided eye contact now. “Took my hand, the vision in my right eye, my job, and nearly killed both my boys.”

“Both your boys? So you have two.” Silas commented. “I take it the other one isn’t around anymore?”

“Eridan’s older brother, Cronus, ran away at sixteen an’ hasn’t been home since.” Dorian answered. “Bout a year ago he sent me a short letter sayin' he was okay, he was livin' in his own place in a city a few hours north a’ here, an' that he wasn’t plannin’ on comin’ home anytime soon. An’ that was it.”

“So Eridan’s really all you have left now, isn’t he?” Silas asked rhetorically. Dorian sighed and turned his head to look out the window. They’d picked this trashy apartment mainly because Eridan had been ecstatic about the view. “Tell me about him. What’s he like? What kind of relationship do you have with him?”

“He’s an asshole. Never been too good at listenin’ to people. An' he’s vindictive. Instead a’ gettin’ teary when he was hurt, he got angry. Got into a lot a’ fights at school an’ always insisted that it was the other kid’s fault. An’ whenever people pushed him away he’d come home swearin’ up a storm and then lock himself away in his room. He’d be overreactin’ every time.” Dorian complained, shaking his head and sighing again. Silas nodded in understanding. Karkat was listening from the other side of the room, staring at a picture of Eridan.

“Was there anything _good_ about him?” Karkat asked incredulously. Dorian smiled a little and snorted.

“There was plenty. Not many people saw it though, because he said all the good things were useless or made him look weak. Never really saw it the way I did.” Dorian said, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his thighs. “He was real protective a’ those he actually cared about. An' he was dedicated. He dropped out of high school the moment he turned sixteen in order to take on a second job. He’s been workin' his ass off and stickin' a good portion a' each paycheck into a savin’s fund to get me a prosthetic. Seems to think that if I had both my hands again it’d be easier for me to find a job.”

“So his two jobs were the main source of income.” Silas assumed. Karkat came back to the couch and plopped down next to his dad.

“Mostly, yeah. When the accident made me unable to work I was put on one a’ those government disability plans.” He said. It wasn’t all that difficult to talk about these things. Despite all of Eridan’s faults, Dorian was proud of him. “But I didn’t have enough work credits or whatever to earn us enough to even pay the mortgage on the house we were livin’ in at the time. So we moved here. It’s been a struggle ever since, even with Eridan’s two jobs.”

“When did you learn about his depression?” Silas asked.

“About a year ago. Just before he dropped out a’ school. Refused to be medicated and wouldn’t go into therapy ‘cause it would cost too much.” He explained, his eyes wandering over to one of the pictures of Eridan. “Never went anywhere other than home or work for the same reason. Never treated himself to somethin' fun, never bought more groceries than just the essentials, always bought clothes from thrift stores despite his obsessions with fashion, an' always spent more money on me than he did himself.”

“And that’s why you believe he was kidnapped, yes? Because he never went anywhere other than home or work.” Silas summarized. “Why do you say he didn’t run away? Because his brother did?”

“I’m sure his choice not to leave had very little to do with Cronus. Eridan never saw his brother as a good example a' anythin'.” Dorian disagreed. “Like I said, Eridan is dedicated. He practically swore on his life that he would take care a' me and get me that prosthetic. He wouldn’t just give up. He ain't like that. He’s never given up on anythin'. He’s clingy too. Can’t stand bein' alone. Runnin' means he’d be separatin' himself from everyone, he’d be choosin' to be alone. Eridan may be the only family that I have left, but I’m the only anythin'  _he_ has left. He wouldn’t run.”

“You make very good points. It’s a solid argument and I believe you.” Silas agreed, tone serious and confident. There was a pinging sound like a drop of water on a bell, and Silas pulled his phone out of his pocket. Dorian watched his eyes, saw how they hardened a little and how their owner frowned just a tad more. Then he looked up at Dorian and nodded. “Looks like you were right. My tech crew just found security camera footage of Eridan that confirms he was kidnapped.”

Dorian paled and hung his head. Part of him had still been wishing that he was wrong, and that Eridan would just come home. He hadn’t wanted to be right. Silas got up and went around the coffee table to put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian put a hand over his eyes and bit down sharply on his tongue.

“I’m sorry. We’ll do everything we can to find him, Dorian. And SETT is willing to help you out financially. We can get you that prosthetic and try to find you a job, if you’ll let us.” Silas said, softly. Dorian just nodded. This troll was kind. More so than anyone he’d ever met. “Alright. You’ve been a big help today, Dorian. I’m leaving you with my card so that you can contact us. Send me the information about your disability grant, any outstanding debts that you may have, and your work qualifications, and we’ll see what we can do for you. I wish you well, my friend.”

The hand disappeared and Dorian forced himself to stand. The least he could do was see these people out. He walked with them to the door, and once there Karkat paused and turned back to Dorian.

“You know, Eridan wasn’t the only one taken. There have been five other reported kidnappings from our area in the last two months. Sometimes people get sloppy when they think no one will catch them. They’ve had five successful kidnappings already, enough to make it go to their heads. If they messed up anywhere, we can use it to our advantage.” Karkat said, making Dorian look up from his feet and find the boy’s eyes. The kid had a lot of heart and hope in him for a troll, and there was something about him that said he was just as dedicated as Eridan. “I know it may seem like all is lost, but Eridan’s case could give us the edge that we need to find these people.”

Dorian took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then put his hand on Karkat’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Karkat. You’re a good kid.” He said. Karkat shied away with a shrug.

“Yeah, whatever. Just saying. See you round, Mr. Ampora.” He moved away and Dorian waved the two off. Then he returned to his living room, sat down, and stared at the picture on the coffee table. Eridan, Dorian, and Cronus, all sitting on the edge of a long dock that stuck out into an ocean that reflected a perfect sunset sky. Their figures were just silhouettes. The last summer he’d had both of his boys. Now he had neither of them.

It took him a while to realize that the salty liquid he could taste on his tongue, was coming from his eyes.

\---

Pacing was a nervous habit Eridan had picked up from his dad. Dr. Scratch had come back to the room with the bunk-beds just past midnight that morning, before any of the trolls returned to it. Scratch had dragged him to a tiny basement room, locked the door, and left him there with one short explanation that hadn’t really told Eridan much of anything.

“Ms. Mandy Snow says this is the easiest way to get you to cooperate. Three days, my dear. You have my sympathy.”

Three days of what? What did they intend to do to him? Eridan had a few ideas about what three days meant, by the end of the first one. No one had come back to the door. Not once. Not for anything. He’d spent the whole day waiting, pacing the room that held a bed, a toilet, a curtain around said toilet, and a teeny tiny window all the way up by the ceiling. Nothing else. Occupied by just him and the silence. It reminded Eridan of a jail cell, until he realized that it was something worse than a jail cell.

It was solitary confinement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting this here at the end to avoid spoilers.  
> Mandy Snow = Snowman


End file.
